Keeping Up Appearances
by alyssialui
Summary: Barty has to keep up appearances at Hogwarts. Set in GoF.


_A/N: Barty has to keep up appearances at Hogwarts. Set in GoF._

_Submission for:_

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments): **Transfiguration Assignment #7 - Write about a human who's switched identities._

_**The Battleship Challenge II: **Set during Goblet of Fire_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter._

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><p>He pulled the pocket watch out of his robes to check the time as he stirred the cauldron slowly. Just a few more minutes, and he would have another batch of the potion to last him another two weeks. This was such an intricate potion that needed to be brewed perfectly, else he end up with an extra finger, but he wasn't too worried. He had brewed this potion so much he was sure he could do it in his sleep.<p>

Things were going smoothly with the plan so far. Potter now thought he was his only friend at the school. Everyone turned against him when they thought he had purposely broken the rules to put his name in the Goblet. He scoffed. Potter wasn't even smart enough to tie his own shoelaces, much less tamper with such an important magical artefact. The professors and the students were even more oblivious. If he had known it was so easy to impersonate a renown retired Auror, he would have done it years ago and saved himself the trouble of hiding out with the others.

He shook his head. No, he would have stayed with them regardless. He was one of them. They accepted him when he felt like he was no one. They made him into someone and gave his life purpose. They saw that he had more to offer than his father ever did.

He spat onto the floor as he thought about his father, that man who sat on his high horse at the Ministry, thinking the world was a safe place of gumdrops and laughter. He wished he could see his father's face when the rug was pulled beneath his feet and the Dark Lord regained his full strength.

"Do you see me now, father?" he said softly into the empty back-room of his quarters. He would stand before his father on the Dark Lord's right hand with a smug look. His father would definitely notice him then, right before he killed him.

The potion suddenly turned a murky grey, large bubbles popping under the viscous fluid. It was done. He ladled even amounts into almost fifty vials. He wished he could have brewed more but he couldn't steal too much from Snape's stores without raising suspicion. The man already regarded those around him with a wary eye.

He moved over to a small shelf against the wall next to a large rattling chest. He grinned as he pulled down a tube containing many short strands of greying hair. He called out loudly, "It's night time, you old fool! Go to bed!" He wished the old man would stop fighting. He had a few more months to go in there before he would be disposed of as well.

He took a hair and one of the vials of ladled potion and sat down. He would take the potion right after he transformed back. He slowly took off his prosthetic leg and popped the magic eye out of his socket. Better to get those out of the way while he could.

After a few more minutes, it happened. No matter how many times he transformed, it was always very uncomfortable. His body wasted away as the fat disappeared and his skin began to cling to his emaciated form. His wiry grey hair got thicker and shorter as it darkened. He watched his leg grow out of the old man's stump. He saw as his field of vision doubled as his own eye returned to his empty socket. Alastor Moody no longer sat in the quarters of the Defence Against the Dark Art professor.

He looked at the mark on his left arm, the black snake coiling around the skull languidly. It was definitely getting stronger, but was still slightly pale. He hoped Wormtail was catering to his Lord to the best of his abilities. He knew he could have helped his Lord regain his strength but no one trusted Wormtail to impersonate a professor. Only he could do this job.

He dropped the hair in the potion. It fizzed a bit before he downed the horrible taste in one go. Another uncomfortable transformation later, he dressed for bed, leant the prosthetic against the night table with his eye on top, and went to sleep as Alastor Moody would.


End file.
